


Listening to the Unsaid

by Rinari7



Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Episode: Exposed (s02 e20), Sort-of Subtext, angst-ish, fluff-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7282114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wondered why Cal never told her he wanted her before, and yet she never asked him that question, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listening to the Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenni3penny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/gifts), [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



> This was the fic I actually wanted to get done when I got excited about Lie To Me again recently, but then that little angst-ball hit me and this was giving me trouble so I posted the other first.
> 
> So... dedicated to the two people who are responsible for this being written, and finished.

Gillian wondered, now, why Cal had never said anything.

Maybe it had simply become habit, not saying anything. To be fair, she hadn’t given him a second glance when they’d met, didn’t have any more mental space for anything besides fear, for him, for herself, fear of his abilities, fear for his little daughter. And he knew anything was off the table while she was still married.

Maybe he didn’t want to seem anything other than supportive, after her divorce, like she had been for him. Didn’t want to seem like the panther waiting in the wings to strike, and maybe she could understand that. Maybe she was a little grateful to him for it, even though she _knew_ she would have melted into his arms if he had given any semblance of effort at all to coaxing her there.

She knew he found her attractive, but then she knew that most men did, and she never saw the point in downplaying it, even if she rarely tried to obviously accentuate it either.

She knew (well, people told her, mentioned with interest, attentive to her reaction) that he seemed jealous when other men would make some pass at her.

But she had never expected to hear it from his own mouth, especially not like that: “In the worst possible way.”  
  
Even at that moment, she hadn’t been sure he wasn’t lying, that it wasn’t part of some act.

But it had planted some tiny speck of a seed that sprouted to tickle the edge of her consciousness, when she needed to distract herself from the shock of it all, in the hours she spent waiting for them to come back--both of them--if they were both still alive.

 

Dave had called her, that night--rather, she had picked up for a number she didn’t recognize, while she was sitting in his apartment, like she said she would, even though the drawers were empty and she knew he wasn’t coming back.

“Gillian. I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to get caught up in this.”

“You have _nothing_ to apologize for. If anything, it’s me who should be sorry.” She glanced down at her hands, then to the bed in the next room, where they had made love-- _was it just last yesterday morning?_ It might as well have been a lifetime ago. “I got the impression that--you didn’t disappear, like what would have been best… because of me.”

“Yes.” His voice was low. “I never planned on--I guess nobody ever plans on falling in love. And I stupidly thought I could have something resembling a normal life with you.”

“I thought we could, too.” She could feel the beginnings of tears forming again.

Static crackled over the line, and then he cleared his throat. “I should hang up. I wasn’t supposed to contact you at all, but this is a burner phone. I just wanted to say goodbye. And that I do love you, Gillian.”

“I love you, too.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Thank you, for--not just disappearing.”  
  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Goodbye, Dave.”

“Goodbye.”  
  
She let herself out, locking the door behind herself out of habit, and she had sat in her car for several minutes before she felt fit to drive.

 

She hadn’t intended to go to see Cal, but she ended up in front of his house anyways--and wasn’t that the story of her life?

Emily opened the door, and Gillian drew in a breath, and stepped back, attempting to compose herself. “Hi.”  
  
“Hey. Are you all right?” An expression of concern fell over Emily’s face as she took her in, and she opened the door wider. “Dad’s just finishing dinner.” She raised her voice to call over her shoulder, “Dad? It’s Gillian!” 

Gill stepped forward, but hovered in the hallway. She could hardly intrude on the little time he had this week with his daughter more than she already had. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. I--just--I had forgotten you were here. It can wait.”

 

“What can wait?” The apron hardly suited him, and she'd never admit that she liked seeing him in one, but she used the very genuine smile the sight coaxed out of her to her full advantage as he peered at her expression. “Are you all right, love?”

“I--I'll be fine.” It was so hard not to analyze every move she made around him, but this was at least a half-truth. She would be, even if she wasn't right now.

“Would you stay for dinner?” It wouldn't be that unusual of an occurrence, and as Emily hovered in the background, she found herself nodding.

“I'd like to. If it's not an inconvenience.”

He tilted his head at her, a cocky little smile on his face, and she knew better than to expect him to say anything sweet or meaningful like, _“You're never an inconvenience, Gill.”_

She wasn't wrong.

“I always make enough to have leftovers, don't I, Em? Saves me cooking another day.”

But in a way, wasn't that really saying the same thing?

“Yeah, and I think there are still ‘leftovers’ from a month ago buried in the back of the fridge somewhere.”

Maybe it was a good thing Emily was there, to keep her from getting stuck in her own thoughts, from getting too close to cracking. Gillian smiled as she turned to hang up her coat.

“Is that you volunteering to clean out my fridge this weekend? Because I _very_ happily accept.”

 

She was content to listen to their banter until she felt enough herself again to join in, over a lasagna she savored--and wondered if Cal watched her savor, when his eyes wandered scrupulously everywhere but her mouth.

Emily's eyes darted fairly obviously between her and Cal every so often, but then that was nothing new, and hadn't been for almost as long as she could remember. Back then, at that first business lunch that Emily had unexpectedly attended, because Zoe had been called to the courthouse at the last minute, Gillian had thought it was because she wasn’t used to seeing someone who wasn’t her mother across the table from her father.

When the dishes had been cleared, the girl hopped up and headed towards the living room. “Have you seen the new Alice in Wonderland yet?”

Gillian glanced at Cal.

“I think that question was for you, love, because I _know_ she knows I haven’t seen it. That’s why we’ve got the DVD.”

 

She was practically numb to him calling her “love” now. She hadn’t been aware when it had started, when that word had first slipped out towards her, because it sounded so natural, an unconscious epithet. And by the time she realized he didn't call many women that, it was a fast ensconced habit, of his to call her “darling” and of hers to not even (let herself) notice anymore.

 

“No, I haven't seen it.”

Emily's curls tumbled over her shoulder as she turned to glance at them from where she was kneeling in front of the TV. “Do you want to watch it with us?”

Cal rocked on his heels as he threw a glance at her, busying himself with putting the dishes in the dishwasher. She knew better than to look to him for any cues, not when it came to anything personal, but she still did--could hardly be blamed for it, not with that declaration from earlier still swirling in her mind.

He seemed wholly occupied with his task, indifferent to her response, and she did her best to ignore that little voice that questioned, for the first time, whether or not it was just an act.

 

“Yeah, sure. I’d like to see it. If you don't mind.” Because even if she felt bad intruding on his time with Emily, one more set of eyes on the screen hardly made a difference. And she wanted to, and it was an offer she believed earnest, and this was what she came here for, wasn't it?

So she curled up on the couch beside Cal, and to her surprise Emily squirreled herself in on Gill’s other side, between her and the armrest, looking like she couldn't be more comfortable, and when Cal laid an arm around her shoulder, Gillian just leaned into him a little more and continued watching.

 

She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until he was laying her head on the armrest and draping a blanket over her, and she blinked up at him and moved to swing her feet onto the floor.

“Stay, Gill,” he murmured. “It’s late. You’ve had a rough day. You c’n go home in the morning.”

Was it bad that the lilt of his accent made her sleepy self want to curl up and smile? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t analyze it right now, not properly, not when she was only half-awake and he was right there with that _caring_ in his eyes…

He smoothed the blanket over her, a lingering caress, and she grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it up a little higher, and she thought she saw him smile as she closed her eyes again.

 

It was a little disorienting, waking up as she did, and she had a crick in her neck, but his couch was surprisingly comfortable. It felt a little like the walk of shame--though she had nothing to be ashamed of--with wrinkled clothing, and uncombed hair, and morning breath.  
Maybe she was glad Cal wasn’t up yet as she folded the blanket and picked up her coat and keys.

“You don’t have to go.” Gillian turned to find Emily, in a tank top and cotton shorts, her hair a mess--she was willing to bet Emily tossed and turned in her sleep, like Cal could never keep himself quite still.

“This is your weekend with him. I--we didn’t have any plans-- _I_ didn’t have any plans. I just kind of showed up. I really enjoyed dinner last night. And… what I saw of the movie.”

“Do you usually ‘just show up’?”

“Some--well, not really. On rare occasions. We’re friends.” She wasn’t embarrassed; she had nothing to be embarrassed about, especially not the fact that she wanted to spend time with her best friend after the hell of a day they’d had, and her with a breakup on top of it all. Really and truly no cause for embarrassment in front of his daughter, the fact that he was comfortable enough with her to show up half-drunk and ask to crash at her place as well.

“I guess yesterday was pretty bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t easy.” In so many different ways.

And maybe Emily caught something in her face--she seemed half a natural, sometimes, and it really wasn’t such a surprise, considering whose daughter she was--because she didn’t press any further, and just watched as Gill pulled on her coat and left.

 

Gillian needed to shower, and change, to feel human again, and then she stopped short. They--she and Dave--had planned to go to brunch today, at the same little restaurant-café, to make up for the one that had been interrupted--two days ago, two days and it felt like everything had changed, and yet it all looked the same, was all so familiar.

There was a reservation, so she might as well use it. Last meal, new beginning, whatever the hell it was. It was a gorgeous day.  
  
When Cal came out to greet her, ever-so-nonchalantly, she wondered if the universe was trying to tell her something, even if it only was that Cal was somewhat obsessed with her.

So she smiled, and listened for what he didn’t say.

**Author's Note:**

> It always irked me a little...  
> I know they had a majorly traumatic day, and Gillian was literally just getting out of a relationship in probably one of the worst ways possible... but how do you not talk about how her old boyfriend basically forced her business partner to say he was in love with her?
> 
> This is my attempt to explain why it apparently never came up (judging by their behavior towards one another afterwards), and also why Emily only asked her dad about the DNA test in a random restaurant instead of at home that night.
> 
> And I will forever and ever suck at titles.


End file.
